


99 Problems (and a dragon's all of 'em)

by musicmillennia



Series: Dragon Riders 'verse [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Baby dragons - Freeform, Brief Physical Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Old Married Couple, Rochedouche, Sappy Love Declarations, Sass, Shapeshifting, They Bitch because they care, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How two dragons became an old married couple before even getting married, then established a government in another realm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	99 Problems (and a dragon's all of 'em)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyele/gifts).



> So this would have been finished WAY earlier if my computer didn't lose the enTIRE STORY, which meant I had to rewrite it from the short draft on my phone and then fill in what I could remember and then give it some touch-ups. I hope it's still good. I swear I'm not usually this terrible with prompt-timing!!
> 
> To those who read Dishonorable: the end of this briefly picks up around where that left off. Also, remember when Treville and Richelieu talked about their proposal? Yeah, Treville was indulging Richelieu; I think you'll find the situation was rather reversed ;)
> 
> To Kyele, the inspiration behind every Trevilieu moment in my works: I can only hope I do your OTP proud here, and continue to do so in the future. This is the first time I am writing them as the main focus, as I only ship this through you, so I beg your indulgence.
> 
> WARNING: there is a love confession in here so sappy you might want to hit something.

The day magic came to the world was the day of Marie de Medici's first attempt to take the throne.

Louis remembers it well; how could he not? How could anyone forget how the sky seemed to open with a great rumble, lightning striking through the tear, with all manner of creatures soaring through?

At the head was the two dragons he would come to know as his most trusted advisors: Tréville and Richelieu. They flew side by side where the creatures behind them spread out separately. Where everything else was chaos, they were unified.

§

Armand--they both had other names before entering the human world, but they are unpronounceable to our tongues--met Jean a few days after hatching to different broods. Dragons have excellent memory, so he can recall everything from that moment, down to the shimmer of sunlight peeking through the trees above their dams' nests.

Jean, like him, was still a small and fragile hatchling. Also like him, he and his siblings were not very close. Armand thought it only natural they should become acquainted.

The tiny red and black dragon climbed up and over his dam's nest, hobbling over as best he could on legs he was still unfamiliar with, to the sleek green, silver, and gold dragon curled in a secluded part of his dam's nest. Armand stopped at the base of the nest and made a trilling noise, intent on calling the other hatchling.

Jean heard, but so did his brothers and sisters. A cacophany of heads peeked over the nest, wide and curious eyes fixed on a now frustrated Armand. Still, he did not give up; pointing a barely grown talon at the hatchling whose attention he sought, he trilled again. Said hatchling looked surprised at being singled out, but nevertheless clambered down.

He did not land as gracefully as Armand managed to, ending up doing a few impromptu somersaults before landing on his tail. Shaking his head to clear to dizziness, he turned to Armand in silent question, as if he had completely meant to fall like that.

Armand laughed at him, Jean growled, and so they began.

§

The two dragons swooped down, Richelieu pinning Marie under one gargantuan paw while Tréville landed in front of Louis.

Louis yelped, frightened. He was even more so when the dragons began growling at each other.

Then...the young boy-king hesitated. Were they--arguing? Did-did that dragon just  _roll his eyes_?

The green dragon turned back to him after a few more bouts of growling/bickering(?) and stared him down. Louis' heart pounded frantically under the piercing golden gaze.

Then he heard a voice in his head.

§

The hatchlings quickly grew, as dragons often do. Before Jean and Armand knew it, they both stood at nearly twenty feet and were being tested for their type by their sires.

Armand's sire was of noble blood, well-respected among his peers and notorious for his way with words. The Cardinal Richelieu would be modeled off of him. He inspected each of his offspring, finding most of them to have taken after their dam as a Water Elemental, with smooth blue serpentine bodies and fins instead of head spikes.

Armand and two others had taken after him as a Growth Sigil.

Jean was not of a noble bloodline, but his sire was also respected and well-liked in general. He was an Earth Elemental, no wings to speak of but a sturdy build. Jean's dam was a lovely Moon Elemental, with bioluminescent scales and a keen ability for predicting events to come.

Somehow, he was identified as an Honor Sigil.

His progenitors were mated, so there was no thought given to his dam carrying the egg of another sire. She had told her mate that something would happen with one of their offspring, and it seemed this was it.

Jean became more isolated than ever for this. No one in their gathering knew where to begin harnessing the gifts of such a rare dragon. If not for Armand, he would have flown off on his own as soon as he could carry himself in the air.

Some dragons hoarded treasure; Armand hoarded power. Jean was powerful; in what way, he did not know, but he could sense it like a crackling on his tongue.

But that was not the reason he was attached to Jean's side and they both knew it.

§

_Your Majesty has a good heart._

The voice was deep, gruff-sounding. Like a seasoned soldier, and not at all like himself.

Louis gasped, "W-what?"

_I can sense it. The heart of an innocent, one that only wishes to be strong and noble._

The boy looked around, but everyone had run screaming. There was only his mother and--

"A-are you--is that--" but that was impossible!

Yet the green dragon bowed his head.  _Yes, Your Majesty. You will find that our race has many unique abilities, one of which is to share our souls with others._  The eyes met Louis' again.  _Am I correct in my assessment? Do you wish to be strong and noble? To do right by your kingdom?_

Louis thought for certain he was going to die, that the dragon was simply toying with him before he would devour him and his mother whole. He saw no reason to lie.

"Yes," he replied through frightened tears, "I-I wanted to be like my father before me. Loved and respected. Prosperous."

The dragon tilted his head, scrutinizing Louis a minute more.

Suddenly, Louis felt a cool presence flood into his chest.

_Then we will help you._

§

Dragons had the luxury of choosing to be solitary or social, but that hardly meant there were no exceptions.

Bonding Sickness, their species called it. Future generations born in the human world would be afflicted due to the existence of Riders, but back then, in that peaceful other world, cases turned up perhaps once in a few centuries. The short version is this: upon reaching maturity, the victim would be forced to either form a Bond or spiral into a feral state that would end in a painful death.

The cause was uncertain. Romantics among their kind sighed over theories of True Love; physiologists thought it was because of an imbalance of so and so in this part of the mind; religious dragons--for there was such a thing even then--thought it was the higher power deciding who needed to be surrounded by others and who could have the option of going without; the list of arguments was immense.

Armand had no opinion on the subject. All that mattered to him was Jean not getting up from where he laid under their tree. That afternoon was the worst of Armand's life: nudging Jean to no avail, seeing his sickly pale scales, his sporadically twitching limbs.

It took a small eternity until Jean woke, and that was to lash out at Armand with a feral roar. Armand was forced to pin him under his talons.

"Don't you dare give into your weakness, you fool! Control yourself!" he growled.

Thankfully this cajoling worked, to an extent. Jean's dangerously large pupils shrunk, and he looked up at Armand with a clear, albeit exhausted, gaze.

"I don't think I can do this."

It was the first and only time Armand would ever hear Jean say these words, naked fear in his eyes comparable to that of a hatchling on his first flight. For an awful moment, Armand was almost swept away in that fear with him. Then he tossed his head from side to side in indignation.

"I never took you for a coward," he snarled, "an utter bastard, perhaps, an idiot, definitely, but never a coward." Jean rasped his name in protest, but Armand was not finished. "All you need is a Bond, and look at you! Rolling over and letting this sickness steal your life away. Pathetic!"

This tirade ignited what strength Jean had left. "And what would you have me do?" he snapped, "None of the others would chain themselves to me!"

"Oh, don't play the martyr," Armand spat, "especially when both of us know the answer to your problem." Jean hesitated. When he uttered the other dragon's name again, it was quiet, disbelieving.

Armand drew himself up as much as he could while still keeping Jean against the ground.

"Mate with me."

§

All at once,  _the_ dragon had become  _his_.

He weaved flawlessly into Louis' consciousness until it felt as it their very souls were intertwined. Yet it was not a lover's touch--far from it; the dragon's essence was something paternal, like the comfort of the father Louis never had the opportunity to know. For the first time since his coronation, Louis felt as if the world made sense.

So overwhelmed was he at this sudden feeling of belonging, Louis staggered to his feet and ran to his dragon with open arms. Fond surprise registered from the creature as the child embraced whatever part of that thick neck he could reach within the expanse of his arms.

Slowly, as if unsure, his dragon gently encompassed Louis' back with one of his paws to return to gesture.

A distant flicker of teasing amusement flowed through the new Bond, neither Louis' nor his dragons', yet somehow attached to the latter, who gave it the mental equivalent of a shove. Louis laughed, finally carefree again.

§

Jean's labored breathing was the only sound following Armand's proposal. Armand waited for the reply anxiously, unknowingly digging his talons into Jean's scales until the other gave a pained grunt and he loosened his hold.

At last, Jean wheezed, "I couldn't."

Indignant fury flared in Armand's chest. "Oh?" he replied, deceptively calm, "And why not?"

"You do not know what you are asking--"

Armand scoffed, rearing his head. "Do me the courtesy of not treating me like an ignorant hatchling. I know very well what I am asking."

"Why--" Jean sucked in a sharp breath through his snout. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if he was holding off another wave of the sickness. When it passed, he started again: "Why do you ask for a mate-bond?"

"I hardly think--"

"I want to hear you say it."

"Well, I cannot very well let you die!"

Jean continued to stare at him expectantly.

Another silence, though this one was brief. Armand looked up at the lavender sky, with its orange clouds rolling peacefully along (sometimes he misses that sky today). Next, he took a breath, and stooped his head down. Snout to Jean's neck, Armand moved back and forth along the scales, as if he could bring the vivid colors back. In a voice quiet enough so none but Jean could hear, he spoke:

"You are my equal in every sense, as much as myself as I am. Were I to lose you, I would also lose sight of my purpose. Even if it would not save your life, I would still ask this of you. I--love you. With every part of me, I love you."

Jean let out a whooshing breath.

"Idiot," he croaked, "as if I would say no."

§

It quickly became apparent that Richelieu needed a Rider.

Being a Growth Sigil, he was a natural builder. However, where his sire supervised entire cities for their kind, he specialized in social empires. Anticipating the wants of others was integral to this talent, and as soon as he and Tréville were established in Paris, the entire country seemed to want Richelieu to be chained to a human like his mate.

It was human nature: whatever they did not understand they either chained or killed. Richelieu, with his red and black scales and horns, was quickly discerned as a terrifying unknown, despite his connection to the King's personal dragon.

So he utilized his connection to Jean in order to figure out a human form, which his mate had learned through the Rider link with Louis. The shape was quite constricting, but both dragons viewed it as a necessary evil. Tréville was given a spot in the military for his Honor Sigil, through which he spread the King's good graces and rose quickly. For his part, Richelieu joined the ever influential Church and made it known that whoever wished to try their hand at his saddle would be considered with respect.

This lessened the suspicion fairly well, but not to the point where Richelieu could walk into a room without other humans whispering fearful nonsense.

Many nobles tried, and failed, to gain his Bond. Jean, to his credit, did not chastise him for being picky; if not for the King's innocent heart, he would be in the same position. He did, however, caution him.

"Refuse too many and they might put you in a cage."

Armand barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I should like to see them try."

They did, once, a year and a half into their stay in Paris. Jean made sure they never forgot the dragons' independence again.

§

Living in a magical realm can be novel at first. However, if you had been born there, the occasional squabble between fantastical beasts became so mundane your thirst for adventure would begin to wander elsewhere. It became apparent to Jean and Armand that if they remained in their homeland, they were going to live out a terribly dull existence.

It was their mutual decision to live in another realm, but it would likely surprise you to know that Armand had chosen the one dominated by humans. No magic existed there, but that was easy to change, and Armand had read so much about humans he could not help but be intrigued.

"They constantly change," he told Jean the same night their decision to leave was made. Both were curled into one another, wings draping over each other; Armand was pointing one talon at a picture in a book, incredibly large for humans but nothing out of the ordinary for dragons. This picture depicted two human monarchs pointing at each other, their armies underneath sweeping towards each other with weapons drawn. "Their wars could last mere days or centuries. Emotional creatures, Jean, with an outspoken nature and indomitable spirits."

In other words, humans were the exact opposite of their race. Dragons in their home realm were fearsome, yes, but far too contained and wise for their own good. What advancements they made were gradual, and no wars had been waged since far before Jean and Armand's sires had hatched.

These two dragons were not bloodthirsty, but they were terribly bored.

Jean rumbled approvingly, scrutinizing the book's picture. He tapped one of his talons on the monarchs. "If we could find one of these 'Kings' and gain his approval, perhaps our presence would be welcomed."

Armand agreed, "It would certainly put us in the thick of things."

Jean huffed at the gleam in his mate's eyes. "Try not to look so eager for politics."

"You may not care for them, but I find them most engaging."

"Of course you do."

It took months to construct a portal between their realm and the humans', but with Armand's sire's assistance it was done in two years' time. Many creatures heard of it in the meantime; these would be the same creatures who decided to follow the dragons to this new realm, bringing magic with them.

Neither Armand nor Jean hesitated.

§ 

The Comte de Rochefort came with the King's new Spanish Queen. Unlike the other humans Richelieu encountered, he had embraced magic into his very soul. It was of a darker sort, but then Richelieu knew he was not afraid to get his hands dirty.

This man, quite young then, with the vigor of youth lighting his eyes, approached Richelieu as soon as he had the chance.

"I have a proposition for you."

Armand did not know it then, but accepting Rochefort as his Rider would be the worst mistake of his life.

§

As these things do, all was well at first. In fact, for quite a few years, Richelieu and Rochefort seemed like the paragon of what a Rider-Dragon Bond should be: constantly aware of each other's movements, in perfect tandem with their thoughts and ideas, always in correct form, loyal to one another--anything one would expect from a platonic bond, they had. Jean even teased Armand about being jealous.

Then, Louis formed two regiments: the Red Guards and the Musketeers. These groups of soldiers had been a long time coming for France: the first batch of able-bodied Riders vowed to protect and serve the King. The newly-appointed Cardinal Richelieu would command the first, Captain Tréville the second.

Louis entrusted his dragon to know what he was doing. Rochefort started questioning his.

Mild things, at first--making sure Richelieu did not need assistance on larger projects concerning the Red Guards, which was not remiss considering Richelieu's lack of military experience. He was quickly told that Tréville's portion of Richelieu's mate-bond provided more than enough pseudo-experience for the Cardinal to be a well-rounded commander. Then Rochefort's subtlety began to wane, giving way to something closer to a parent attempting to rein in his child.

When Richelieu snapped against this treatment, the cold recesses of Rochefort's mind lashed out at him with enough dark magic to cause even a seasoned dragon like himself to bodily cringe.

Rochefort's violent nature made itself known; as Richelieu understood it, he had been waiting for his dragon to trust him enough before taking full control of both him and by extension what he had built. When Richelieu attempted to delve deep into the Bond to try and revive the Rider he had come to know, all he found was the cold indifference of a sorcerer driven mad by the dark magic he indulged.

Rochefort never factored his dragon's mate into his plans. 

At first, Richelieu thought he could handle the matter with time; meaning, he kept the rapidly growing violence of Rochefort's abuse from Jean to the best of his ability. However, there was only so much a dragon could do to hide a thick gash of dark magic festering in his wings.

§

Armand felt his Rider's pain as surely as his own, blistering through his defenses and igniting his protective instincts in spite of himself. It had been a cold November night, made worse for Armand due to the sickness brought upon him from Rochefort's blows. Yet he roused himself, and though he could not fly well, he forced his wings to take him aloft; gliding served to be enough to take him to the Louvre, where Rochefort's cries originated.

The Queen was screaming in terror; the King was beside himself, torn between feeling his dragon's bloodthirsty rage and his own horror at seeing his trusted companion slicing through Rochefort's magic and tearing into the man's flesh with quick, decisive strokes.

"Captain!" Richelieu snapped, landing with as much grace as he could muster with his wounds, "What is the meaning of this?"

He was met with an enraged whirlwind through their mate-bond and a savage roar from Jean himself. Armand had never seen him like this, not even in their unpredictable adolescent years; in that moment, he did not know whether to be amazed at his mate's beauty or angered by this sudden interference in a situation he had firmly under control--

" _You call this control?!_ " Jean bellowed in Dragonspeak, golden eyes ablaze. Rochefort was pinned under his claws, and--oh, that was why Richelieu felt such pain in his front paws. His Rider's hands were missing.

"Calm yourself!" Richelieu yelled back, "This is hardly befitting a creature of your standing--"

"Did you think I would not notice, Armand? I know dark magic when I see it! Do you expect me to stand by and watch him tear you apart?!"

"I expect you to cease making a spectacle of yourself! You are terrifying Her Majesty and sending the King half out of his wits!"

Jean responded with a near feral growl, as if he could no longer be bothered with human politics.

"Ca-- _Jean_ ," Armand implored, forcing his voice and stance to calmer states, "Leave him. I am weary. Your Rider will decide his fate after a fair trial. It is the honorable way."

He would never be so lenient on Rochefort, but Jean would never forgive himself if he turned his back on his own Sigil. He knew that Jean knew this, and the dragon wavered accordingly. Armand focused all his energies to taming the wild edges in their bond, approaching the green dragon and resting his head under the other's chin. It was a plaintive gesture he had seen other mated pairs do in their home realm.

Jean's snarls faded into worried rumbles. "Your wings...you flew here, you mad bastard."

Armand huffed, "My Bond has not been severed yet. He can scream quite loudly, you know."

He felt more than heard Jean silently communicate with Louis, informing the King of the reason behind his abrupt ambush of the Comte and that he rightfully demanded justice. Then there was the warmth of Jean's wing draping over him, and nothing.

§

When Armand woke, it was to being curled under Jean's wing and talons, his wounds warm from phoenix fire, a sure way of ridding dark magic. Although it was rumored to be agonizing; briefly he was thankful he had lost consciousness beforehand.

The poison of Rochefort's Bond was gone, causing him to feel lighter than he had in weeks. Dazed from exhaustion and relief, he accepted Jean's nuzzles with contented hums and drifted back to sleep.

§

As soon as he was recovered, Richelieu was told that Rochefort had been sent to a Spanish prison; although a Dragon-Rider Bond could never be completely severed without one of them dying, Louis had commissioned the most powerful magic users to find a method of blocking the link so fully the sensation felt like a severance.

He holds this method in his hands now, as Aramis leaves the room and Constance tackles her babbling Rider. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to tremble at the all-too familiar symbols on the shackles,  _his_ shackles.

Rochefort is nothing if not resourceful and intelligent; he found a way to copy the enchantment on his bonds. And if this copy had reached D'Artagnan...

Numbly, he makes his way outside. Jean sees the shackles and hisses in alarm.

"I do not feel him," Armand assures him, "However, I do not think he will allow me to roam free for much longer."

Tréville's lips pull back into a smirk that looks unfamiliar on even his draconic features. "Then we kill him first."

**Author's Note:**

> And so they did.
> 
> Well that's it for this series, unless I get another prompt. But since you all will have to pry my dragon AUs from my cold, dead fingers, I can say that this is hardly the last one I'll write. The Unusuals series may or may not be getting another one in the foreseeable future, but time will tell, as well as that story waiting in my notebook.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this, and thank you for reading this one. Kyele, I hope I covered everything you wanted--sorry, sorry, SORRY for the delay!


End file.
